The Product of Two Variables
by Mistkitiscoolio
Summary: Feliciano was given three chances. What will happen when he can't play by the rules? A Russia X Dark!Italy fanfiction written by me and my friend (I shall call her CamCam). A product of the "fanfiction game"
1. Chapter 1

Ivans POV

"Hey, Fratello!" Romano opened his eyes to face his younger brother. He lifted his head from Antonio's chest, blinking blearily. He yawned. "Just as I was getting comfortable," he muttered under his breath. Antonio grinned at him and Romano found himself blushing. He cleared his throat. "What is it, Feliciano?" Feliciano stared at him with big round amber eyes. "Ve!~" Romano rolled his own pair of amber eyes. "That's not a f*ck!ng answer." "Well, you know how you were swearing at me the other day?" Antonio chuckled and wrapped his arm around Romano's shoulders. "You'll have to be a little more specific. He swears at anything that moves...and most things that don't." Romano punched him in the stomach. "I DON'T F*CK!NG SWEAR ALL THE F*CK!NG TIME!" "Really?" asked Antonio, playing innocent. "What about last night? You seemed to -" "SHUT THE F*CK UP! THEY DON'T NEED TO F*CK!NG KNOW ABOUT THAT!" Romano screamed. Feliciano's face darkened momentarily, and I, standing beside him, wondered if I had imagined it. I looked again and Feliciano's expression was back to his normal happily oblivious appearance. "What did you do to my Fratello last night, Antonio?" Feli asked.

Antonio's cheeks turned slightly pink as he glanced at the glaring Romano on his left. "I made him eat a hot pepper." Feliciano grinned. "Fratello doesn't like spicy foods. You should know that by now!~" I cleared my throat quietly, tugging at my scarf. "Oh, right, Feli-chan! Weren't you going to tell us something?"

"Oh, yeah!" Feliciano's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "You know how you were scolding me about being a lazy mule and not dong any work except making pasta and then not even selling it but eating it all myself and not leaving any for you?"

"Yeah, vaguely," Romano answered, though he knew that he hadn't used the word 'mule,' instead favoring a different word that began with an 'a.' Antonio tried desperately to stifle his laughter. Romano...scolding...Feliciano...for not working. He failed and earned another embarrassed punch from Romano. "Ve!~ Well, today, I went out and found a job!~" Romano's eyes grew wide. "You...you're serious, aren't you?" Feliciano nodded. "Ve!~ And guess who my boss is!" Guess that's my cue. I stepped out of the shadows, pipe gripped tightly in one hand. "Hello."

Feliciano turned and looked at me. "Aw~ Ivan, you ruined the surprise!

I grinned sheepishly and tugged on my scarf. "Sorry, Feliciano." I didn't really feel sorry, but the Italian didn't pick up on it. Or perhaps he did, just choosing not to show any emotion other than his usual ones. I turned to the other two men, who were sitting on the couch together and grabbing on to each other like Alfred after a scary movie. I smiled at them. "Hello. I am Ivan Brasinski." The other two men just nodded, scared out of their wits.

Suddenly, my phone rang. I didn't need to check caller ID as 'England's Demon Summoning Song' blasted through the tiny speakers. ''Mera mera to, yakitsukuse. Sumikada sumimada sono gouka de attokata mo..." I sighed, knowing there was no way of ignoring Arthur Kirkland when he kol'd. "Sorry, Feli. I'm afraid that I'll have to leave now. Come in tomorrow at 7:30." And with that, I sank back into the shadows.

Feliciano's POV

*Flashback*

I muttered to myself as I stormed through the streets. "That idiot! Is he blind? Why does he want to deal with that stupid Tomato-loving ass?" I mentally smacked myself for indulging in my brothers favorite pass time, cursing. _Well, second fovorite pass time, I guess. _I thought bitterly. Romano's favorite thing to do right now was probably that idiot Antonio.

"Hey, cute stuff. What are you doing at so late at night?" A man who was leaning against a brick wall said, taking a quick drag on his cigarette. He pushed off the wall and approached me. "It can get pretty dangerous." I could smell his breath when he got close enough; it smelled like smoke and whiskey. "Especially for a cute little thing like you." As if to make a point he delivered a quick slap to my butt.

My reaction was fast. I spun around, grabbing his arm. I slammed a fist into his forearm while holding his wrist tightly, grinning at the loud crack that I got in return. The man cried out in pain. I gripped his broken arm with both hands and used it to fling him over my shoulder. He hit the ground with another scream. I finally let go of his arm, choosing, instead, to kick him roughly in the face.

The man spat out blood, his face turned, giving me a good veiw of the shoe sized imprint on his cheek. _Maybe this is just what I need to get Romano off my mind... Someone to beat the crap out of. This night could go well after all. _I kicked him some more, enjoying his screams of pain with all of my being.

Soon I found myself losing interest. I stepped away from the man's unconscious body and observed the blood that now caked the side of his face. _hmm... Cake... That sounds really good right now. _I thought, giggling.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, I turned to see a big man wearing a long coat and a scarf that covered some of his face. I blinked, It wasn't very cold out, so why was the man dressed like that.

The big man smiled, it would have been cute if he didn't emit a dark aura. "Hello there, little one." I blinked, trying to place the mans accent. He continued. "You are in my territory, redheaded boy."

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "What of it?"

The mans smiled agan, tightening his grip on the metal pipe in his left hand. The faucet on the top was a colour that was somewhere between red and brown, as though the sliver had been covered with blood. "I will let you off with a warning this time, little redheaded boy. But, be aware, I do not like people beating up my subordinates without my permission, especially on my territory." The Russian man (He was Russian, I'm sure) said as the pipe hits me across the ribs. I let out a gasp as waves of pain and... something else washed over me.


	2. Chapter 2

~Russia's POV~

I didn't walk through the front door of the hotel; no, the decor made me sick. The elaborate, pointless decorations were expensive and gaudy, enough so that it hurt my eyes too look at them Instead, I went through the nondescript side door that led to the cellar.  
This was more my style. It was cold, dark, damp, and, most importantly, quiet. I glanced at the hidden door that led to the room invisible to the outside. It was refridgerated, sound-proof, light-proof, smell-proof, and light-proof. Perfect for the ingredients I created.  
The door opened behind me, letting light seep into the dark cellar. Oliver came in, whistling merrily. His pink sweatervest was as bright as always, and his khaki pants were imaculately ironed. I wouldn't doubt that his socks had creases in them.  
"Morning," he said to me as he walked past, heading towards the hidden room I was telling you about a moment ago (yes, I just broke the fourth wall. Well, in Soviet Russia, the fourth wall breaks YOU).  
"Yes," I agreed. "It is a morning. Not a particularly good morning, but not a terrible one either. It is just a morning."  
Oliver scoffed and unlocked the hidden door. He used the ingredients I created when his brother, Arthur, found out that someone was betraying him. Blood and flesh and bones. Yum. I never accepted anything food related from him because of this, not even chocolate on St. White's day. Speaking of which, isn't that coming up rather soon? Hm. I'd much prefer vodka to chocolate, but I'd eat it if someone gave it to me. Excepting Oliver.  
Despite his 'ingredients', the little psyco is the head - and only - chef of the most popular pastry shop in town. He is also the person in charge of 'cleaning up' our messes. So, more often than not, he 'cleans up' the 'messes' into his shop's pastries. That was what made them so addictive. Of course, his customers didn't know what they were eating. All they knew was that the food tasted good, and that there were special ingredients in it.  
Sometimes, people get suspicious when I've had a slow week and stray puppies and cats start to disappear off the streets.  
They often get in tragic accidents.  
I smiled as Oliver left the room and crossed the street to his bakery, dragging a bag behind him.  
My cell phone rang again and, instead of answering it, I turned it off. I knew who was calling. I sighed and walked up the stairs into the hotel, sticking my head through the trap door. "You kol'd?"  
No one was in the room. That was odd. Arthur usually never left his throne of a chair if he could help it. I shrugged.  
Maybe he was somewhere in the hotel? Arthur owned the place, after all.  
The first place I checked was the gym. The boy had to stay fit somehow.  
Arthur was definitely not there, but I wasn't complaining because Matthew - Matvey - was. And he was practicing for his next concert.  
Matvey is a Canadian pop singer.  
On stage, he wears black and silver and leather and looks confident enough to storm the capital and take over the world with ease.  
At home, he dresses in baggy light-wash jeans and a faded red hoodie and has the presence of a mouse.  
But when you give him a hockey stick and tell him the other side has the puck...watch out. I fingered a scar on the back of my head. Matvey had given me that once when I had given him a bottle of maple syrup- flavoured vodka during a hockey game and then said that Russia would beat Canada.  
I watched, ondering why Matvey's dancing was so...uninhibited today. Noticing that Matvey was blushing and periodically glancing over at a specific spot, I followed his gaze. Ah. Gilbert, our resident albino and one of my underlings, sat with his legs crossed and eyes glued to Matvey. Or, more accurately, his hips. I now suspected that his sîtting position had less to do with comfort and more to do with his famous 'five meters'.  
I cleared my throat. Matvey stopped dancing and flushed, stammering an explanation. I smiled and waved a hand dimissively.  
"Have either of you seen Arthur in the past hour or so?"

~Italy's POV~

*flashback*

I stumbled forewords thinking to myself: _Damn you, Lovino. You know you shouldn't leave your alcohol out where I can find it!_

Not really knowing where I was, I continued onward, trying to find something I recognize.

Soon I passed by a shop that seemed a bit familiar... Maybe... It's hard to recognize things when you're as drunk as a monkey... Do monkeys get drunk often?... Whatever...

I kept walking until I bumped into What felt like a brick wall. "Helloooooo, Wall. How are you?" I mumbled drunkenly. This was a very soft brick wall... I put my hands on if to help me push off of it. After a few tries, I managed to do it. A silly grin spread across my face in my triumph. I looked up to the top of the wall. It was wearing a long grey coat and what looked like a scarf. It looked a lot like the guy who I met last time I got lost.

"You?" The wall said, it had a silly accent. Something in the back of my drunken mind told me that it was a Russian accent.

"'you'?" My eyes widened and I looked over my shoulder, as though the wall were talking to someone behind me. "Silly wall, we're the only ones here, and my name's not 'You'." I giggled at the wall.

"What are you doing back here?" The wall asked.

"Back! Back! I'm Back!" I started singing. "These walls are silly. What do you say we get out of this Bubble and find our own, Marvin?" I started walking in small circles.

"Are you drunk?"

I soon got dizzy and fell over. Laying on the ground, I held my arms out. "I call upon you, magic Puppets. Take me away to Narnia!"

"... Or are you high? I can't tell."

I giggled, looking at the wall. "Would you like to come to Narnia to, wall? It should be fun. With all those Demigods and witches and talking cats."

"I think you're getting your book series mixed up..."

I started trying to get off the ground, grunting when I fell back onto the side walk.

"What the hell are you doing here drunk?" The wall asked.

"Well, you see, I was just on my way to visit my ex-wife when German-terrorists attacked and held everyone in the building hostage, I had to stop it while wearing no shoes." I explained.

The wall groaned. "That's the plot of _Die Hard."_

"Or maybe I just watched some movies and drank... Same thing."

The wall groaned again before helping me to my feet.

"Thank you, good sir," I slurred. "I shall have the queen reward you in the morning."

"I'll ask you one last time: Why are you here?"

My face went serious before I got on the tips of my toes and whispered in his ear, as though it were a big secret. "I got lost." I then pulled back and giggled. "Anyway, wall, It's nice to meet you. My name is Feliciano, I like pasta and kitties and pasta. Did I just say pasta twice? Oh well, I do love pasta enough to say it twice. What's your favorite food? Mine's pas-" I was cut off by a hand going over my mouth.

"Shut up, you annoying little boy." He sighed and mumbled to himself for a moment before saying. "Just get out of here, I warned you about this once, stay out of my territory. This is my last warning, If you come in here again," He gripped my jaw tighter, to help his point before finishing his threat. "You probably won't be leaving with all your limbs. Understand, little one."

The thing that sent a slight tremor down my spine wasn't the threat itself, it was the fact that he had been smiling the whole time. I nodded quickly.

His grin grew before he let me go. "Alright then. Away with you, little boy. And don't come back."

With that he slid away, disappearing into the alleyways.

I slowly started walking back the way I thought I had come, the encounter with that man having sobered me up a bit. After about five minutes I searched though my pockets for my phone. I grabbed it and called my friend, Elizibeta.

"_Feli! Why are you calling so late?_"

"Hi, Elizibeta. I was wondering if you could pick me up, I'm a little lost..."

"_Wait... You sound weird... Are you drunk!?"_ She shouted.

"Maybe a little."

"_Fine, I'll come get you. Where are you?"_

I told her the address of the shop I was outside of and she said that she would come and get me soon. So I sat on the curb and waited.


	3. Chapter 3

*Ivan's POV*

"Can't you tell that the awesome me is awesomely busy watching his awesome partner awesome?" Prussia nearly screamed. I smiled.  
"I'm sure there was a point in there somewhere, but as your grammar was awful...I didn't catch it. Sorry, Gilbert."  
Gilbert (also known as Prussia, aka Pru-chan, etc.) shot to his feet. Matthew clotheslined him before he could make a fool of himself. Well, more of a fool. Gil lay on the floor, gasping for air. "Good aim," I commented to Matvey. He turned bright pink and dropped to his knees next to Gilbert. "I'm so sorry, Gil! It's just that, since he's your boss and all, and, um, you've still got that, um, PROBLEM." His hands moved to said problem.  
Speaking of which, I had been politely ignoring this problem. No longer. "Yes, Prussia, are you really that happy to see me?"  
Gilbert spat half-heartedly in my direction, then started coughing. Mattvey rubbed a hand against his back. "Did you take your medicine this morning?"  
"Dunno."  
I watched as Prussia gasped and wheezed on the floor. Prussia has a very severe case of asthma (made worse by the fact that he normally had at least one broken rib, depending on how annoying he was to me) and has to take specially made medicine. Otherwise, he'd probably die. We couldn't allow that because unfortunately Matty dear had/has a crush bigger than Quebec on him. And since Matvy threatened to quit if we didn't help...we found a temporary cure. Matvey is indisputably the best ninja in the trade, so we can't afford to lose him. Hence, we take care of the asthmatic albino we nicknamed Prussia after one of the war games got sightly out of hand. But that's another story. Anyway, the point is that he has trouble breathing.  
Matthew sighed and reached into the pocket of his jacket (nothing could fit in the pockets of his jeans - they were so tight that, even if there WERE pockete, no oone could fit a hand in, much less anything else), pulling out a vial and shaking two pills from it.. He then tried to hand them to Gilbert, but he was bent over double and in no position to take them. Matvy studied him, concluded that he wasn't faking, and popped the pills in his own mouth. Before I could wonder about what the heck he was doing, he was kissing Gilbert.  
Kissing.  
Gilbert.  
With tongue.  
In front of me.  
The rational part of my brain told me that Matvy was only trying to get Prussia to take the pills and utilizing every asset, but...  
Had my pants always been this tight?

*Feliciano's POV* (Not a flash back for once, YAY!)

I sat across the room staring at my brother and his... I don't know what you would call Antonio... Lovino would reject it if I called him his boyfriend (And I would reject it too, but you wouldn't catch me saying that outloud). They are more than friends, though...

I digress, The two were currently bickering over something that didn't make any sense. Antonio suddenly chuckled and dived down to try to plant a kiss on Lovino's lips. Lovi, however, smacked him away before he could do anything. "Stop that, you little *******." He shouted with a deep frown.

Antonio leaned towards him and said, with a grin. "Now, Lovino, we both know that I'm not little."

Lovino rolled his eyes and gave the spanish man a shove, succesfully knocking him off the couch.

they continued like this for a few minutes until I cleared my throat awkwardly. They both looked up from where Lovino was pinning Antonio to the floor.

"Oh, Feliciano, I forgot that you were here." The Spanish man said.

"Of course you did, you were distracted." I muttered under my breath.

"What did you say, Feli?"

"Nothing, Antonio."

Lovino quickly got to his feet and looked at me. "We're going out to dinner, see you later." He walked out the door as though nothing happened.

Antonio scrambled to his feet and followed my brother with a quick, "Sorry, bye." to me.

I didn't really care. I really don't. It doesn't bother me at all. Who my fratello likes is of no concern to me. I couldn't care less that Antonio is my brothers lover. I literaly don't give one damn... Ok, fine! I care. I wouldn't ever tell anyone.

Once I walked in on them doing... well, you know... I got so mad at Lovino, but, of course, I had to pretend to be my normal, annoying self around him so that spanish, turtle-loving idiot wouldn't start fawning over me, thinking I'm sick.

I glaced at the window, seeing the two of them outside. Lovino was curently pinned to his car, Antonio whispered something before kissing him hard on the lips. Lovino ran his hands through Antonio's hair before leading him into the back seat of the car and closing the door. I watched the car rock back and forth while thinking _Going out to dinner my ass! _

I turned away for the window and went to make myself pasta to take my mind off of it.


End file.
